


Disappearing When You Wake Up

by momothesweet



Series: Night Changes [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Carnival, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, I may have given away what happens but if you've seen the one direction video you already know, Reader-Insert, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 10:22:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5086963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momothesweet/pseuds/momothesweet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's your one-year anniversary with Bokuto, and he's decided to recreate your first date with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disappearing When You Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> Part two of my personal hell
> 
> There's isn't a lot of love for my owl child in the reader insert area, but if you run into this and find yourself wanting something more...*coughs* suggestive, let me know ^^
> 
> I have the urge to make each story two chapters, the second being ~~a little~~ a lot more explicit. I'm not sure, though. If I have the energy to do it I will. Otherwise, enjoy your date ~

Bokuto bounces like an eight-year-old when he sees you walking towards him. His smile reaches his ears and you’re doing the same. One year of being with Bokuto has been the best year of your life. Both of you are celebrating your anniversary by recreating your first date - lucky for you two, the local carnival has been set up the same exact day as it did one year ago. You were going to think about all the times he made you smile that night, but your brain hits pause when he throws his arms around you, hugging you tightly as he says your name over and over again.

“Happy anniversary ~” he chirps, dotting you with kisses all over your face.

You giggle and give him a little kiss on his lips, your arms draped over his broad shoulders while you stand on your toes to meet his owly gaze. “Happy anniversary,” you repeat. “Are you going to win me another stuffed animal?”

“You bet your ass I will!” he says excitedly, almost lifting you by the hips. “We can go eat ice cream and stare at each other in the fun house mirrors and I can snuggle you in the ferris wheel-”

“That all sounds perfect,” you say, interrupting him because you know he’ll probably go on forever instead of actually doing the things he lists. Bokuto beams, and he takes your hand to sweep you through the entrance and surround the both of you with fluorescent lights, warm colors of orange and yellow and red, balloons and more.

Those memories you were trying to recall earlier come back to you full force while Bokuto takes you along and tries to find that booth where he won you that giant stuffed owl a year ago. He offered you a caramel apple right when he saw you (his was already half-eaten; he was hungry). The weather was cooler than tonight, and he wrapped you in his black scarf. It was arguably the warmest thing that had been wrapped around your neck, next to his arms.Bokuto shook like a leaf when he first took his hand in yours, but now he’s firm and holding onto you so he makes sure you aren’t going to slip away.

You’re not planning on doing that, anyway.

The game booth lies near a series of thrill rides embellished with neon lights and flashy names. The object of the game is simple: knock over all three milk bottles from the stand, win a prize. For Bokuto, though, with all the energy he has, he sometimes gets carried away and aims for a target other than the milk bottles. Another fond memory of yours involves him pouting for a solid fifteen minutes after losing a Mario Kart match with you. Tonight, he’s not pouting. It takes him three tries and he shoots his fists up in the air whooping when he wins.

“You’re my good luck charm, you know,” he says as you both wait for the worker to take down the large stuffed owl hanging on the side of the booth.

“Nah,” you disagree, “you’re just _that_ good at stuff like this.”

A part of you is telling the truth but another part of you just really wants to see him light up like the rides behind him. As strange as it sounds, the energy he emanates feeds into you. Whenever you’re around him, it’s like the world goes from black and white to a thousand rainbows. Although he can have his plateaus, you can’t help but feel more alive than you do when you’re with anyone else. Now that you’re thinking about it, those ups and downs have made for a roller coaster ride of a relationship. It’s an absolute joy.

Bokuto takes his prize and holds it up next to his face, mimicking the owl’s wide eyes and beak that looks as if he’s hooting at you. “Hoot hoot!”

You laugh and take the snowy-white bird from his hands, nuzzling it up to your face to feel just how soft it is. Yup - it’s just as soft as the first one he got you.

The two of you play a few other games around. Bokuto won a goldfish after tossing a ping pong ball into its fishbowl, and you couldn’t help but fall more in love with him when he gave it to a small child who was ready to bawl when she didn’t win. He probably figured out that it’d be hard to take care of, to be perfectly honest, yet it was still an incredibly kind gesture.

You got a few triumphs, too. You popped a few balloons with darts and won a small teddy bear, and shot your way to a water balloon yo-yo that you wound up giving to that same child who won goldfish (she was a lucky child that night). While the carnival was at its busiest, the two of you take a break and eat all the junk food Bokuto could buy, even though you insisted on paying for your food.

“Nonsense!” he protested with food shoved to his cheeks. “This is our anniversary. I’m going to take care of you tonight.”

“Why don’t I take care of you, too,” you joke, wiping bits of food off the corner of his mouth. He blushes, and takes a huge gulp to swallow his food.

“You’re really cute, you know that?” he tells you with more coherence. “Like super cute?”

“You’ve told me that since we started dating,” you say with a smile. “You’re the super cute one in this relationship.”

“Am not!” It seems as if his hair spiked up further to the sky, like you gained his attention...with more attention.

“Are too,” you argue, poking his nose.

“Hah, maybe I _am_ the cutest,” he gloats, slyly smiling. “But I’ll never be as cute as you.”

The two of you both go on like a naive teenage couple for a few more minutes. These silly little conversations are other vignettes that exhibit the adoration you have for each other.

You finish your food earlier than he does; Bokuto’s appetite has no bounds. That said, it worries you slightly when he suggests riding the spinning teacups nearby. There he goes again bouncing like an eight-year-old, squeezing your hand and eyes so alive and bright.

“Come on! This is where I first kissed you, remember?”

Bokuto has a point, but it still leaves you uneasy given how much food he devoured not too long ago. For a moment, you get distracted by the memory. He spun the teacup with fury until you slid right into his arms. He kissed you and everything was literally a blur around you and it felt as if time slowed down. But really, it was the teacup that slowed down and the disgruntled carnival worker had to tap your shoulder to get off the ride. A little embarrassing, but nonetheless the best first kiss you’ve ever had.

It only takes you that moment to not notice the fact that you’re already inside a baby blue teacup, hearing the click of the door.

“Are you sure? You just-”

“I’ll be fine!” he proclaims. “Don’t worry about it!”

Hesitantly, you nod, and after a monotonous announcement to keep all extremities inside the ride at all times, Bokuto gets to work. You really don’t have to do any work at all. In fact, you like watching your boyfriend turn the wheel. More specifically, you like watching your boyfriend’s arms do the work. It’s just a shame that he’s wearing a sweater. A sweater you bought him for the holidays. A sweater a size smaller than he normally wears. He never noticed.

Like before, you hold off on touching the wheel and easily make your way to his side while the world spins around you. There goes that feeling that time is slowing down again, except the ride is far from over. Bokuto pauses to look at you, his smile at its widest it’s been all night. He leans in, lips dangerously close to yours…

And in the blink of an eye, he’s frowning. The color in his face goes missing. Instead of holding you like a boyfriend would in a scene of a cheesy romance movie, he’s gripping onto your shoulder for dear life as if he just told you his life-threatening mission. He gags, and before you can express your horror and instinctively scoot away he’s throwing up all over your lap. There goes your dress, your tights, and your shoes. Your stuffed snowy owl, however, was safe from the attack. But nobody was safe from the smell.

After the ride prematurely stops and many apologies to the worker, you run to the nearest portable sink next to the porta-potties to wash out the remnants of Bokuto’s digestion. It’s nothing short of gross and attention-getting amongst the kids and parents and other couples walking by. It’s even more obvious when you find the bottom half of your outfit completely soaked with all the water you could pump out of the poor excuse for a sink. Half a trash can’s worth of shitty paper towels later, you realize that you completely left Bokuto behind. Your heart becomes heavy as you think about how bad he must feel about the whole situation. Knowing him, he’s likely slumped in his seat, pouting and sulking and wanting nothing to make him feel better.

That’s exactly how you find him.

The owl sits idly next to him while you take the seat on Bokuto’s opposite side. Judging by his face and the water that drips from his mouth and chin, he’s cleaned himself up, too. When you try to lean in to touch his cheek, he turns away.

“Hey,” you say softly, “it’s okay.”

“No it isn’t,” he grumbles. “I ruined everything.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t ruin everything. Everything tonight was perfect.”

“But I threw up on your dress!” he whines. He throws his head to the sky and back to bury it in his hands. “I’m a horrible boyfriend.”

“No you aren’t,” you reply firmly. You wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his shoulder. “You’re not a horrible boyfriend. You’re cute and funny and you always think of others before yourself and you’ve made me feel so much better about myself since we started dating. I love you.”

Sounds of balloons popping and children happily screaming and rides whizzing by fill your ears until he responds. You give him all the time he needs, letting go so your words can simmer in his head and so he can take a deep breath. Once he gets his head out of his hands, he faces you and grabs your cheeks for a kiss. You’re ready for it, but he stops again right before he hits your lips.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, muffled.

“I. I should wash my mouth first. Properly,” he says.

You give it some thought, and although you’d love to kiss him right about now, he has a point. “Sure. Your place or mine?”

The certain implication of the question hits you right when Bokuto raises an eyebrow and smirks. It wasn’t your intention, but you’re eager to know that he might have something else planned.

“Definitely my place,” he answers. “Maybe you can dry your clothes there, too.”

You’re not sure whether Bokuto meant to suggest that sincerely or if it was also a certain implication. Either way, you’re going home with him, your hand in his and your other hand in a stuffed owl’s wing.        

Tonight can only get better from here.

 

 


End file.
